


Nothin' for Christmas

by Asoreleks



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Steve, Christmas Fluff, Civil War was talked out and people were compassionate adults, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9238094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asoreleks/pseuds/Asoreleks
Summary: A super-late Christmas story about our Romanogers pair realising what’s good for them through a series of fluffy, funny, sexy events and a certain holiday song that keeps on popping up in the background.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is late, but just remember that Russian Orthodox Christmas is on January the seventh, so… 
> 
> ¯\\_(**,)_/¯ 
> 
> I was feeling kind of burnt out, and just staring at my other stories or binging on sci-fi horror tv series. But then since the Eartha Kitt song “Nothin’ for Christmas”, which is a sort of saucy (I used the word ‘saucy’! When does one get to do that without it seeming weird or like you’re a character in Fawlty Towers or something?) reworking of the song “Nuthin’ for Christmas”, is still stuck in my head I decided to write something about the Romanogers cotton candy it produces in my brain. I saw a little funny Real Life blurb on the internet that inspired the first segment of the story so thank you mystery poster of that anecdote. 
> 
> This takes place in a world where Thor got back just as Thaddeus Ross was handing out copies of the Sokovia Accords and then said “Prithee friends, read this tome carefully. Consider the wording and the power you will beholden to if you pledge to this doctrine. Guilt can make one do foolish things, trust my words for I know this burden, but your duty is to this planet and better guidelines are needed for this endeavour. Also, be wary for I heard word of the titan Thanos, who seeks the infinity gem in Vision’s forehead.” Hence, no Civil War, just a logical discussion with Thor mediating.

 

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel Characters or the Marvel Universes they interact in. I also do not own any recognisable popular culture iconography mentioned or described within the following story. I only own the plot of the story that I have written, but I do not receive any monetary reward for its distribution. I write for self-improvement in my writing skills and because I love the Romanogers fandom. All I get paid in return is smiles, laughs and sometimes tears over the lovely things readers write in their comments.**

**"Nothin' For Christmas"** [Eartha Kitt Version Lyrics]  


I’m gettin’ nothin’ for Christmas  
Poor little Eartha is sad  
I’m gettin’ nothin’ for Christmas  
Cause I didn’t wanna be bad  
  
Jim promised me a sable coat  
Just for a little kiss  
A diamond ring and motorboat  
Just for a little kiss  
  
He said “I’ll buy out the stores,  
Everything I have is yours.  
I will be your Santa Clause,   
Just for a little kiss.”  
  
I’m gettin’ nothin’ for Christmas  
My little Jimmy is mad  
I’m gettin’ nothin’ for Christmas  
Cause I didn’t wanna be bad  
  
Jack promised me a ruby clip  
Just for a tiny squeeze  
A wardrobe plus a Paris trip  
Just for a tiny squeeze  
  
He said “Dear be nice to me,   
And on Christmas Day you’ll see,  
Presents ‘round your Christmas tree,  
Just for a tiny squeeze.”  
  
But I’m gettin’ nothin’ for Christmas  
My little Jackie is mad  
I’m gettin’ nothin’ for Christmas  
Cause I didn’t wanna be bad  
  
I’m gettin’ nothin’ for Christmas  
Cause I didn’t wanna be bad  
  
So take my advice  
I think you should  
It’s good to be good  
But not too good  
Or you’ll get  
  
Nothin’ for Christmas

 

@>-`-,----

 

Nothin’ for Christmas

12 December 2016

Natasha Romanov was truly startled for the first time in a long time. It wasn’t easy to get the drop on her. She’d been forced to become aware of the threat level of her surroundings at a very early age and now the methods she had practiced as a young girl to survive were instincts that buzzed constantly on the periphery of her mind. But she was surprised, and it happened in a crowded New York coffee shop and was accompanied by the playful crooning of Eartha Kitt as the café’s sound system played the song ‘Nothin’ for Christmas’.

 

A hand slipped into hers as she waited in the queue. A masculine hand. A masculine hand that squeezed her smaller bare hand and intertwined fingers with hers.

 

Natasha looked up at the owner of the hand and frowned at the man. After about twenty seconds he sighed and griped: “This is going to take forever, but I suppose it’s to be expected with the snow and everything.”

 

The owner of the hand glanced at Natasha and did a double-take when he saw her face.

 

“You’re not my wife,” a clean-shaven, brown-haired man with short haircut stated.

 

“No,” Natasha confirmed. After an awkward pause she added: “I’m not.”

 

“Yes, she isn’t,” a female voice agreed wryly behind them. Natasha turned her head slightly to see an auburn-haired woman standing behind her. She was dressed in a maroon bomber jacket, just like Natasha was. She also had a beige scarf, dark blue jeans and a duck-egg blue beanie on like Natasha did. “It looks like we’re twinsies today, and my husband doesn’t pay close enough attention to notice that it’s not my hand he’s holding. I have my hair in pigtails today, Jake. This woman’s hair is loose.”

 

“Oh, yeah you do,” Jake said awkwardly. He was still holding Natasha’s hand and she wondered when he was going to realise that he had to let go. Jake turned to Natasha with an impassive expression on his face, and Natasha was expecting an awkward apology but then he just turned to face the checkout counter ahead.  

 

“I’m not letting you latch your order onto mine,” Natasha declared slowly as she scrutinised the man.

 

“Yeah, cool,” Jake nodded quickly although he kept looking at the menu board.

 

“And I have someone else whose hand I’d rather hold,” Natasha informed him as she flexed her fingers and broke free of his grip. It hadn’t been a great suffering to endure, but his palms had become clammy very quickly. Natasha swivelled around to Jake’s wife and flashed a grimacing smile at her before she spun back around and took a step forward to take the hand of the blond who had been standing in front of Jake, but who was clearly in Natasha’s shared space bubble. He was watching the scene behind him over his shoulder and his lips had been pursed in an effort not to laugh out loud.

 

Natasha nudged Steve’s shoulder and smirked up at him as she held his hand. He had a charcoal grey beanie on and a generous dose of winter weekend stubble on his face although it was a Monday. With his casual ensemble of a navy blue hoodie and dark jeans to match it would not be likely that they would be recognised.

 

Steve’s shoulders were shaking minutely as he tried to supress his mirth. It would be just their luck that something weird would happen when they made a quick coffee stop in Brooklyn. The two teammates had been scouting Christmas presents together before they made their purchases, and it was bitterly cold out. They needed mocha with candy canes them.

 

“Do you think they have any idea who he just held hands with,” Steve murmured in Russian to his companion. He’d learned Russian in the war and still kept himself busy learning new languages. It was useful for their occupation.

 

“Not a chance,” Natasha replied as she leaned her head against Steve’s shoulder familiarly. “If he did then he’d have fainted or something.”

 

“He looked close to forgetting how to function due to the embarrassment,” Steve chuckled quietly. He squeezed her hand and brought it up to his chest so that he could hold her hand with both of his. They held hands playing the couple act right up until they reached the front of the queue, and then continued to act as a pair with Steve subtly making gentlemanly adjustments of intimacy to his manner towards her and Natasha affectionately accepting them. Their behaviour flowed seamlessly these days when they had to play a couple. They knew each other well enough to make it seem real without any effort.

 

As Steve settled his hand on the small of her back and he escorted her out of the café, Natasha wondered once again why it was that that kind of relationship between them was not a reality. As fun as it was to mess with the unsuspecting public, little incidents like that brought up feelings she’d buried a long time ago. Once again she had to mentally go through all her arguments against the idea of making Steve more than her colleague and dear friend. It had been a while since she’d had to reason with herself against actively pursuing madness, but she always won. Except that day, her reasons lacked logic, substance and conviction.

 

@>-`-,----

 

16 December 2016

“It’s official. This is the worst disguise you’ve ever made me wear,” Steve sighed quietly as he caught yet another glimpse of himself off of a reflective surface.

 

He and Natasha were infiltrating the office Christmas party of a corporation with extensive links to trafficking war refugees. They had needed a last little bit of data to tie the case up and send the scumbags off to trial and jail. Natasha had just gotten what they needed while she ‘slipped off to the restroom’. Now they had to maintain their cover for a few minutes and then get out of there without drawing too much attention. Steve did not know how that would be achieved because the Klingon beard Natasha had insisted he shave his facial hair into was just appallingly distracting on him. He couldn’t fathom how people were able to look him in the eye with a straight face. Natasha was extra smirky that evening despite being an espionage-extraordinaire with the best poker-face in the world.

 

“I could have made you have a sparrow beard,” Natasha remarked as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. She patted his chest in an affectionate gesture befitting the married couple they were pretending to be and smiled smugly up at him.

 

“My beard was not long enough for that,” Steve whispered back against the helix of her ear. He handed her a refill of the too sweet cranberry punch that had been on offer at the buffet table.

 

“Do you really think I’m above giving you a weave for your beard?” Natasha countered with an arched eyebrow. “Now I have to say my goodbyes and then we can finally get out of here.”

 

Natasha had been undercover for several months as a human resources employee, which was ironic considering the real purpose of her joining that company, and so she was known to a quite a few of the employees. Her guise was an excellent short black bob wig, blue contact lenses, platinum wedding rings and constant crimson lipstick. She had donned a lace black dress with a black velvet jacket and gold heels that night to fit into the office party surroundings without calling too much attention to herself. Steve was fitted up to look slightly conspicuous on purpose so as to provide a mild distraction. People would notice his Klingon beard, bleached out hair and burgundy velvet blazer. With his brown contact lenses looked like a muscly Guy Fieri impersonator.

 

“Melanie,” a voice called her cover name out to Natasha as she and Steve made their way to the exit. Natasha turned around with a smile, yanking Steve back as he tried to keep on heading out. It was Veronica from marketing and she had a huge grin on her face, a glass of red wine in her hands and a tinsel garland wrapped around her neck like it was a feather boa. “You can’t be thinking of leaving without visiting the photo booth? Everybody’s doing it.”

 

“I almost forgot,” Natasha giggled, affecting a tipsy-air. “It’s packed with mistletoe, right?”

 

She could practically feel Steve’s eyebrows arching up in alarm behind her even though she couldn’t see his face.

 

“Pretty weird for a place that doesn’t allow intra-office personal relationships, huh,” Veronica snorted.

 

“I’m lucky I’ve got a kissing-buddy,” Natasha laughed as she tugged Steve along to the photo-booth. 

 

“Do you mind if us lonely hearts borrow your husband for a little smooch?” Veronica asked with a leer. Even with the Klingon beard, one could not ignore the fact that Steve was hot.

 

“I have the flu!” Steve blurted out in response and Natasha laughed along with Veronica as she made a show of pouting in disappointment. Natasha ignored the vicious little voice at the back of her mind that told her to punch the veneers off of Veronica’s dazzlingly white teeth.

 

“And I don’t share,” Natasha sing-songed as she pulled Steve with her into the booth. It was indeed packed with mistletoe and as a consequence was rather uncomfortable to be in unless you were wrapped up in someone else’s arms and not touching any of the surfaces. Absently Natasha noted that someone in the background was singing a terrible rendition of ‘Nothin’ for Christmas’ for the karaoke competition.

 

Natasha peered up at Steve and beckoned him closer as he awkwardly tried to keep all his limbs in the booth and not touch any of the scratchy décor. Steve rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Natasha’s waist.

 

“Come on, we want to see some steamy pics printed!” Veronica encouraged from outside. Her order was joined by a few more chants of agreement. Natasha recognised that the voices belonged to the office-gossips that Veronica associated with: Wendy, Paul, Aaron and Sanjeev.

 

Steve’s eyes widened as he held Natasha’s gaze. He looked as though he was about to bolt, but Natasha had no pity for him and leaned over to press the start button for the machine. She heard Steve emit a strangled noise from his throat as she straightened up and chuckled to herself at her blond partner.

 

As she expected, Steve went in for a peck to the cheek for the first shot. Natasha smirked up at him. She traced the fingers of her right hand over the black tie he was wearing knowing that her glare conveyed all the admonishing she needed it to. Steve looked sheepish about not complying with their cover to the best of his ability. They had fifteen seconds between each of the four shots for him to get over himself and make it better.

 

“No missing this time,” Natasha warned quietly as she wrapped his tie around her knuckles to tug him closer and tapped her lips with the index finger of her left hand. They were two inches away from each other when Steve’s expression suddenly morphed into the infuriating little grin he wore whenever he tried to tease and rib Natasha throughout their acquaintance. The tightening of Steve’s arms around her which jolted her forward towards him was unexpected.

 

It was exquisite.

 

Steve’s lips on hers equated to a delicate but rousing symphony that raised the hairs on the back of one’s neck as one listened to it. He kissed her like he knew how he wanted to kiss her and like he knew what her weaknesses were. His lips were sure as they met with hers firmly. Steve captured her upper lip between his, sucking gently and making her gasp at the sudden jolt of pleasure that travelled from her lips straight down to her clit. He took the opportunity to swipe his tongue into her mouth and undulated it passionately against her tongue. Natasha moaned and pulled him closer as she tangled her fingers in the hair at the back of his head.

 

“Hurry up you two. I want to see those pictures,” Veronica called from outside the booth.

 

Steve pulled back at the interruption and ended their kiss with a second wet suck of her upper lip in just the right way that weakened her at the knees. He brushed his thumb over her lips, swiping away their wetness. Natasha opened her eyes to Steve’s profile as he selected the photo series as approved for printing. It seemed as though a little warning greatly improved Steve Rogers’ kissing skills- by a thousand.

 

What would it have been like if the kiss was real?

 

Why weren’t they doing this for real again?

 

@>-`-,----

 

18 December 2016

“Steve, I need your help,” Natasha called from her bedroom.

 

“Hmm? What is it?” Steve answered distractedly as he coloured in a page from a festive edition Mandala book. The beard was gone and he was in his sweats relaxing on the sofa in Natasha’s personal Quarters at the Avengers’ Base. Steve and Natasha had just enough down time to quickly do a few errands and rest for a moment before they had to fly off to Panama on a mission. Steve had chosen to still his mind with colouring in intricately patterned shapes, which he found helped him to unwind although his mind was not completely still because he had a tune stuck in his head and he had to whistle it. It was that holiday song ‘Nothin’ for Christmas’. He thought it was cute, so he didn’t mind having that particular earworm.  

 

“This one, or this one?” Natasha enquired earnestly. Steve looked up to see that Natasha had a computer tablet held up over her chest and facing him to show off the contents- which was lingerie. He stopped whistling and blinked rapidly for seven seconds straight.

 

“Do you have something in your eye?” Natasha asked anxiously. Before he could open his mouth to respond, Steve found that _Natasha’s_ bust was right in front of his face before his chin was jerked up and Natasha’s green-eyed frown was glaring into his eyes while her fingers held his right eyelids open.

 

“Yeah it feels like it,” Steve lied awkwardly. Natasha switched to his left eye quickly.

 

“I don’t see anything,” Natasha told him as her hands slid down his jaw and onto his shoulders.

 

“Maybe it fell out?” Steve suggested lamely. “I feel alright now.”

 

“Right,” Natasha concluded with a pout. She picked up her tablet from where she had dropped it on the sofa next to Steve. “I was asking if I should get this sheer and black set, or if I should get the crimson and gold lace set?”

 

“Um?” Steve croaked.

 

“Is the sheer one too nude? Is it too simple?” Natasha asked as she scrunched up her face and surveyed Steve’s expression. “I think the crimson suits my skin tone and it is seasonal.”

 

“Why are you asking me this?” Steve queried breathlessly as he blinked rapidly once more.

 

“Are you sure you don’t have something in your eye?” Natasha questioned as she put her palm against Steve’s cheek and peered into his eyes. “Maybe your eyelash is about to fall off and is scratching your eye or something. I’m asking you because you have a great sense of colour and design aesthetic as a natural artist. I need an opinion if I’m going to have this delivered before the Christmas break.”

 

Natasha shoved the tablet under his nose again and Steve was forced to look at women in their undergarments. He might have been a little shit from Brooklyn who was best friends with a womaniser from the days when French postcards were dealt with as much enthusiasm as bootleg liquor, but looking at strange women in seductive arching poses while they modelled the scandalous scraps of underwear that the past century’s societal evolution had come up with was still a bit much for him to handle with calm.

 

“Does my hair clash with this red?” Natasha enquired as she titled her head into his line of vision, holding a lock of her loose curly auburn hair against the image of the crimson and gold lace set. Being artistically inclined Steve really did not need any help imagining Natasha wearing the negligee. He did not need any prompts or colour comparisons to know that she’d look fucking spectacular.

 

“Wait, I’ve got some things that look sort of similar to these,” Natasha told him as she jumped up and headed towards her bedroom. “I’ll just quickly change.”

 

If Steve had been a little bunny rabbit on a prairie, any huge eagle would have been able to snatch him up with ease at that moment. Panic paralysed him. But he wasn’t a bunny, and if he was supposed to be any sort of animal it should have been an eagle seeing as it was the national bird of the country he represented. Curiously enough, the Russian avian symbol was an eagle as well.   

 

When Natasha returned to the room Steve was hunched over with his head in his hands and hugging a purple cushion- to his pelvis.

 

“So this is the sheer one I have that’s sort of like the one in the photo,” Natasha explained as she turned around. Steve groaned, but he had not looked up. Natasha paused for a moment and asked with concern: “Steve, are you alright?”

 

“Huh?” Steve grunted as he lifted his ruffled head up. He squinted and narrowed his eyes as though the light in the room hurt him, even though it was quite muted and soft as it was evening and they were in Natasha’s personal living quarters. “I, uh… have a… an ache. In my mind.”

 

“Really?” Natasha remarked in puzzlement. She strode over to where he was seated swiftly, which was exactly what Steve did not need. He had forgotten that Natasha tended to help him with acupressure relief whenever he had any aches since most everyday medicines were not effective on his body for very long if at all.

 

Once again Natasha’s bust was in Steve’s face as she pressed her fingers to the five points on each side of his head just behind his ears that helped relieve headache tension. The brassiere she had on was so sheer it looked as though she had nothing but the pretty black swirls of leaves and roses covering the lower fullness of her bust and Steve could also see that her nipples were rosy and- _dear sweet creators of Nutella_ \- she smelled so good. Thank goodness she was still wearing jeans and had only modelled the brassiere part of the lingerie set.

 

Steve found himself thinking about the lyrics of the song that had been stuck in his head. Being ‘good’ really got you ‘Nothin’ for Christmas’. He silently bemoaned the fact that he was not more like his best friend Bucky, who knew when to discard the gentlemanly exterior for more animal pursuits and executed such endeavours with flair.

 

After a few seconds of battling with himself so that he did not flop forward to bury his face in Natasha’s sweet bosom, Steve felt that he was in imminent danger for Natasha’s hands moved to the back of his neck to stimulate the ‘Heavenly Gate’ pressure points that helped to relieve stress, migraines and eye strain. In the past he had needed her to do that for him often after a mission, but she was always behind him not practically in his lap with her knee inching towards a very embarrassing situation currently poorly hidden by a mauve purple silk cushion. 

 

“I should nap,” Steve blurted. Natasha drew back a few inches to scrutinise him and Steve took the opportunity to shoot up and make his escape. Only he bumped into Natasha’s forearm as he stood knocking her off balance. And he had ridiculously fast reflexes. He steadied the curvy redhead in front of him with a hand at her back an unfortunate hand on her left breast. To top it all off, the mauve cushion had fallen to the floor. There was no not noticing everything about the situation.

 

Glowing a red that would have put Rudolph’s nose to shame, Steve scurried out of Natasha’s quarters with a mumbled apology. He missed the wicked smirk that unfurled on Natasha’s lips as she watched him leave. He was so easy to tease, but she wished he would pounce already. If he didn’t soon, she would.

 

@>-`-,----

 

24 December 2016

Natasha Romanov sighed as she watched the snowflakes falling outside of Steve’s Brooklyn hideaway. For all his bumbling wonder about the workings of the twenty-first century, Steve was pretty good with investments and money. He’d actually procured a house in Park Slope- _Park Slope!_ \- and rented it out for a few years while he lived in Washington and wandered the world looking for the Winter Soldier. Now that he had found his best friend and helped get him the rehabilitative help he needed and was based in the State of New York, he had chosen to not seek out new tenants once the last ones had moved out.

 

Natasha had helped him secure the building as a private retreat for when he did not feel like communal living with the people he worked with and saw all the time as well. She was the only person besides Bucky and Sam who knew of the place. Well, if one asked Wanda she may have denied knowing about the place but she had seen a glimpse of it during an accidental slip of her powers.

 

It was as at times like the moment she found herself in that Natasha wished she had time to bake more than store-bought cookie dough. She never bought the stuff since she could actually taste the preservatives and could always immediately note the effect they had on her body. It was a side-effect of being a recipient of the Red Room variation of super-soldier serum and her cover training as a ballerina. She was always in tune with her body.

 

Natasha could bake and the holidays always felt like real holidays if there was the smell of something sweetly spiced wafting out of the oven, but she wasn’t Laura. Natasha Romanov had no time to make cookies- especially when idiots messed up the world requiring her to go on missions that were supposed to extend over the Christmas period but ended on Christmas Eve because the same idiots were idiots and caught easily enough.

 

Normally Natasha spent her Christmas break with the Bartons. But this year the family had gone on a ski trip on the other side of the country and there was a huge snow blizzard so it would have been unwise to try to join up with them. Tony was in California trying to convince Pepper’s family that it was a good idea for her to have agreed to marry him. Thor was in Hawaii working on his relationship with Jane. Sam was also out of town visiting his parents. Wanda had taken Vision along with her to visit Pietro’s grave in Sokovia. She had become more spiritual and missed her twin greatly during Hanukah. Bucky had finally gotten the confidence in his mental independence to accompany his great-nieces to a family reunion that was happening in Ireland. Steve was originally supposed to go with, but his and Natasha’s combined skill set was needed for that mission in Panama.  

 

So Steve and Natasha were back in New York unexpectedly early with only each other for company that evening and nowhere to go but his Park Slope brownstone. Not that either of them minded. Natasha knew for a fact that she quite cherished spending the time with Steve even if they had absolutely no Christmassy things prepared as a result of their busy schedule. They did have hot chocolate and tiny marshmallows, and they both could cook so they knew they’d be fine. A last minute stop at a local store got them Christmas lights to string up and because it was insane to try and buy a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve in the city, unless you wanted a ratty stick that put the sad little sapling in the Peanuts Special to shame, they settled for a sprig of mistletoe to hang up from the local florist as their festive plant symbol.

 

In truth Natasha was a little surprised at how easily their impromptu plans flowed and how at ease they were with each other in them. Sure Steve had been a guest at the last Barton Family Christmas, but before then he’d been with Sam or volunteering at his local parish. She didn’t know Steve at this time of the year; she didn’t know his traditions or what he was like during the season other than one year’s example. But it felt like this Christmas was their Christmas every year. Holding onto Steve’s arm as they braced themselves against the flurries of snow when they ran from shop to shop, trying to sort out last minute festivity, felt comfortable and real.   

 

And that was just the thing: Their acting during missions and in awkward real-life situations had begun to feel more like make-believe than pretend. On her part, Natasha knew that she possessed desire behind the make-believe. Natasha knew very well that she and Steve would work as a couple. She truly did because she knew people and she knew Steve and she knew herself. She knew she loved him in that way that forged families i.e. in the romantic way that made her want to spend the rest of her life with him. And she knew that Steve felt things for her that he dare not say, that he was always interrupted from blurting when the moment was right. It was a delicate business getting two scarred people together and she’d seen Steve bite his tongue and have his courage stoppered as it surged before an attempted confession. It was important for Steve to say it. She had thought he needed that because of when he’d grown up. But her banter and attempts at encouraging him all felt useless when work dashed his efforts. And for what? For her to become so engrossed in being a surreptitious handler for Fury’s green migraine that she deluded herself into believing her own lies only to go through heartbreak she didn’t need?

 

Steve sat down next to Natasha on the window seat she was curled up in and offered her a plate of fresh pryaniki from the Russian bakery opposite the florists while he sipped from his mug of hot chocolate. She didn’t know he’d gone in there. Natasha put down her mug of hot chocolate on the window sill and turned to face Steve.

 

“Marry me,” Natasha breathed.

 

“Gee wow, I’m going to remember to get you a special order of pryaniki whenever I make you mad,” Steve chuckled as he held his mug to his lips to slurp a half-melted marshmallow in.

 

“I’m serious. Marry me,” Natasha repeated. Steve froze and stared at her over the rim of his mug with wide alarmed eyes. Natasha gulped and collected her wits so that she could continue. “I love you and I don’t want to play this stupid game where we don’t say that we want to be with each other anymore. I don’t want anyone to assume that I don’t want to be with you, that I don’t have a heart and a home. I don’t want to hack away parts of my soul every time I have to detangle my attachment from you so I can do my job.

 

“I want our kisses to be real. I want when I touch you for you to understand that it means more than friendship. I want to belong to you and you to me. I want it to be okay for me to tell you I love you. I want you to know that you have my devotion and always will. I want to live- _really live_ \- with you, Steve. Marry me… please?”

 

Steve had not moved. He sat there with his elbow jutted out from his body and shoulder-level while he hunched over his mug of hot chocolate staring at her. Natasha couldn’t help her shallow breaths. Her heart rate raced along anxiously and tension had seized control over her breathing apparatus.

 

“I…” Steve hesitated. His face scrunched up in a frown, he put down his mug on the window sill and he did that adorable flustered blinking thing again. “Men are supposed to ask- tradi…tionally.”

 

“It’s a leap year,” Natasha whispered with a smile.

 

“I haven’t even courted- dated you,” Steve reasoned.

 

“What’s the shortest courtship period you personally know of belonging to a couple that succeeded? Think of the couples who got married during the war,” Natasha countered.

 

“Two days and they were happily married for seventy two years,” Steve answered.

 

“I know you. You know me. I’m certain. I don’t want anyone to take this between us away from us with their interference,” Natasha added.

 

“Huh,” Steve huffed. They sat for a few minutes in silence regarding each other until Steve abruptly jerked his arm up to point at her. His mouth opened but the words did not come out. His index finger began to wag and he stood up slowly. Then he walked out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house.

 

He was freaking out. That’s what Steve did and Natasha knew that. He’d probably need to walk or run. Natasha sighed worriedly when she realised that the shoes that Steve was wearing as she watched him from the window as he walked away from the house bundled up in a coat were definitely not suited to running in the snow. Steve was freaking out and Natasha knew that’s what he did, but the fact let panic loose to riot through her veins sickeningly.

 

She had admitted she loved him. But was she wrong in supposing that he loved her?

 

@>-`-,----

 

3:43AM, 25 December 2016

Natasha woke with a start from her place at the window seat where she’d held vigil waiting for Steve to return. The presence of another human being in close proximity triggered her instincts and her eyes shot open to meet Steve’s blue gaze as he knelt before her.

 

“Yes,” he said.

 

“What?” Natasha asked in confusion.

 

“Yes, I’ll marry you Natasha Romanov,” Steve elaborated with a lopsided smile. “But you have to wear this ring.”

 

Natasha’s head jerked down to look at the brilliant cut diamond and sapphire ring Steve held in between his fingers as he rested his hand in her lap.

 

“You may have gotten to propose but just at least allow me this. I may suck at it but I am a romantic,” Steve chuckled. Natasha raised her eyes to meet his again. “It’s out of the blue, but you’re right. I love you too and I don’t think I can take the hurt of pretending like I don’t know that you’re the one for me any longer. So if it’s alright, I want to say ‘yes’ to you. I want to be yours and for you to be mine. I want you to know that it kills me not share every part of me with you wholeheartedly. I want you to know that I want your soul. I want you to know that I want to be free to love you every day. I want you to know that you drive me crazy with the need to make love to you. I want you to know that all our kisses are real and my love is for you.”

 

Steve slipped the platinum filigree band onto Natasha’s ring finger on her left hand and looked up at her through his lashes. Natasha couldn’t resist and leaned forward to kiss him with tender passion.

 

“I went out to get a ring because you should have one. I woke this jeweller guy Tony knows,” Steve explained against her lips as he held her in his arms.

 

“The one who’s practically on call for apology presents for Pepper from Tony?” Natasha giggled. “He’s kind of brilliant. You chose perfectly despite having only seven hours to do so.”

 

“Thankfully he doesn’t celebrate Christmas,” Steve said, “or he’d have been pissed off. But he’s a romantic too.”

 

“If you’re eager, then I could actually twist Fury’s arm to get us a licence asap,” Natasha offered. “He owes me big time for several things.”

 

“Let me talk to my parish priest. And yeah, we should take Fury up on that I.O.U,” Steve replied. He winked at her and they both grinned. “Maybe I’ll get a wife for Christmas.”

 

**FIN**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is so late but hey, technically it’s Christmas somewhere for someone. I worked on it between festive season commitments, but hopefully it's passable. 
> 
> Pryaniki (plural of pryanik) are Russian honey spice cookies. And cookies made Natasha propose. Kidding.


End file.
